


little black dress (it's all right)

by istajmaal



Series: genderfluid!harry verse [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Coming Out, F/M, Genderqueer Character, Harry in Panties, M/M, Nail Polish, Other, Rimming, Smut, background ot5 feels, closeting, fluffy ending because i can, genderfluid!harry, in spite of the title no one wears a dress at any point sorry, narrativized musings on the nature of identity and self-expression, the smut is not really the point (unless the smut it always the point idk)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:24:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istajmaal/pseuds/istajmaal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry is a girl sometimes. louis loves her all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	little black dress (it's all right)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Mała czarna](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178272) by [carietta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carietta/pseuds/carietta)



> is this an au? is it not an au? what is reality? what is alterity? what.
> 
> this fic contains well-meaning but ignorant characters reacting to genderqueerness in ways that are far from ideal. it all turns out for the best, but take note if you might find that kind of thing upsetting.
> 
> also, i am an american who has spent around a decade immersed in fanfiction about british harrys, so there's probably a very odd combinations of britishisms and americanisms in here. i'm sorry love but i don't really care.
> 
> (i don't know one direction, this is a work of fiction and i am not making money off it, &c.)
> 
> tumblr: thepreviousquestion

The first time is--well, Louis doesn't know when the first time is. That's the thing that makes him just a little bit uncomfortable. That, he tells himself, and nothing else.

 

The first time Louis finds Harry dressed in girls' clothes, it's a few weeks after they've moved in together and a few lifetimes since they met (at least, that's how it feels). Louis had gone off to play football with Liam and Niall after rehearsal while Harry had made some vague excuses about being tired and had gone home. Louis didn't enjoy hanging out with the rest of the boys quite as much without Harry there (not that he'd _ever_ admit to that--it's not like everyone doesn't already think he and Harry are scarily codependent), so he left Liam and Niall after only half an hour of kicking the ball around.

 

"Honey, I'm home," Louis calls out in a sing-song voice as he opens the door. The sound of one of Harry's indie bands is echoing through the flat. Louis throws his coat on the chair in the foyer and heads into the kitchen, where the music seems to be emanating from.

 

Harry is standing over the stove, poking at what looks like a pan of ground beef, wearing--well, it might just be that Harry has absurdly long legs, but it _looks_ like he's wearing the shortest pair of denim shorts that Louis has ever seen. There's no way he's wearing boxers underneath them, and that would be enough to pique Louis's curiosity even if he weren't already wondering where on earth Harry got the shorts. As Louis draws closer, he notices they have pink floral designs stitched on the back pockets. Harry's also wearing a dark gray v-neck tee-shirt with capped sleeves that hugs his torso tightly, and a pair of purple- and white-striped knee-highs that make Louis want to spend hours kissing his thighs.

 

"Hi," Harry says, only looking up at Louis briefly before turning back to the stove. Louis thinks he notices Harry's cheeks turn a little red, but it might just be the heat from the stove. 

 

"Hi." Louis sidles up behind Harry and puts his arms around him. "What's this, then?" he says, kissing the back of Harry's neck and breathing in his familiar smell. Sweaty. Appley. Home.

 

"Uh," Harry says. "Fajitas. Obviously." He pokes at the meat in the pan and it sizzles.

 

Louis hums into Harry's hair. "Not what I meant," he says, slipping his hand a little up Harry's shirt and placing it on Harry's stomach just above the waistband of the denim shorts.

 

Harry swallows and puts down the spatula in his hand. "It's." He's definitely flushing now. "Do you like it?"

 

Louis nips at Harry's ear. "I like _you_ ," he says, both because it's true and--well, however cute it is when Harry is nervous, it's really not cute if Harry thinks he has anything to be nervous about. Kissing the side of Harry's neck again, he unbuttons the jeans and pulls on the zip (only caught off guard for a moment when they seem to unzip backwards).

 

Harry starts as Louis palms his mostly-flaccid dick through the fabric. " _Jesus_ , Lou, open flames right over here," he says. Louis turns the stove off with one hand and pulls down Harry's shorts with the other.

 

Louis has never really thought about panties in a sexy way. Mostly they remind him of being forced to do his family's laundry. But Harry has on these little cheeky silk hipster panties with lace trimming that don't anywhere near hold Harry's (mostly) soft cock in, and they're making Louis want to sink his fingers and his teeth into Harry's cute little arse cheeks. Louis is not quite over the fact that he's allowed to think things like that about Harry, so it's with great enthusiasm that he drops to his knees and does exactly that, gripping Harry's arse cheeks with both hands and biting just under the lace.

 

" _Louis_ ," Harry says, and it's maybe supposed to sound scolding but it comes out more desperate. Louis likes that. He might like it a  _lot_.

 

" _Harry_ ," Louis says back teasingly. He places a kiss over the faint teeth marks on Harry's right cheek. He pulls Harry's legs apart gently and Harry lets out an exasperated-sounding exhale, shifting to the left so that he can place his hands on the counter instead of the stovetop while Louis pulls back on his legs insistently so that Harry's bent over in front of him.

 

"You are so fucking hot," Louis whispers into Harry's thigh, so softly he's not even sure Harry will hear, as he kisses a line from the top of Harry's socks to the hem of his panties. It's the kind of thing they don't say very often, yet, even if Louis sometimes feels like it's plastered all over his face. Louis reaches around to Harry's front and feels Harry hardening in his panties. He gently lowers the silky fabric just a little down Harry's thighs so he can see his pink hole flutter a little as Harry whimpers _Louis_ just as he licks around his rim.

 

Every now and again Louis thinks he's getting a handle on his feelings for Harry. Sometimes he feels like he's on the verge of not feeling like he's drowning in affection every time he looks at him. As his own arousal pools in his stomach while he tongues into Harry, he figures Harry dressed in panties is God's way of telling him _no such luck_. He doesn't think about much else after that.

 

###

 

The second time that Louis knows of, it's a few weeks later. Louis has a scheduled outing with Eleanor but manages to cut it short. Harry had been antsy about him leaving that morning. Louis wants to surprise him. It's Louis that ends up being surprised when he walks into their kitchen to find Harry sitting at the counter painting his nails.

 

"Hi, love," Louis says as he comes into the kitchen. Harry freezes for a moment upon catching Louis's eye before dabbing at his left pinky nail one more time and placing the cap back on the bottle of bright red polish. Louis does everything he can to keep himself smiling lightly even though Harry is frowning and biting his--biting--well, Harry is lip-biting. Louis puts his keys down on the counter.

 

"Didn't think you'd be home for a while," Harry says, voice just slightly higher than normal. The denim shorts with pink stitching have made a reappearance, but now Harry's wearing one of Louis' white v-neck tees with them. It's quite a bit smaller on Harry than it is on Louis. There are no knee-high socks this time so Louis can see Harry's toenails are also painted red.

 

Louis shrugs and looks down at his keys on the counter. He can't stop looking at the bright red of Harry's nails from the corner of his eye.

 

"Buggered off Eleanor early," he says. "Wanted to spend time with you." He keeps smiling and looks briefly at the bottle of nail polish on the counter. He wonders where Harry got it from, _when_ Harry got it, and more importantly, why Louis doesn't _know_.

 

"'m right here." Harry waves goofily and it is impossible for Louis not to relax his shoulders a little, to feel at least a bit more centered when Harry's dimples make an appearance.

 

"I see that," Louis says. He leans over the countertop and kisses Harry brief but soft. Harry seems to be wearing lip gloss. Oh. "Hi," Louis says again.

 

"Hi." Harry takes a hand off the counter as if to put it to Louis' cheek, then pulls back a little and blows on the still-drying polish.

 

"So," Louis says. Harry keeps exhaling lightly on the nail polish and looking at Louis' hands. Louis leans back against the fridge. "So this isn't really a sex thing. Is it."

 

They hadn't talked about the panty incident a few weeks prior. Once while they were joking around with the lads about interviewers asking about skeletons in their closets Louis had said "there may be more in Harry's closet than any of us know," but Harry hadn't laughed, had acted like Louis hadn't said anything at all. That meant it either meant nothing that Harry sometimes wore women's knickers when he was alone, or it meant... a lot, and now Louis thinks he knows now which it is.

 

Shrug. "No." Pause. Harry's fingers drum an anxious beat on the countertop. "Not a sex thing."

 

It means a lot.

 

"So... girls' clothes. Makeup." Louis doesn't know why he said that. He wanted it to sound like he's totally cool with Harry wearing those things, but instead it sounds like he's panicked about it. (Which he _isn't_. It's just Harry. It's _Harry_ , who Louis knows better than anyone, _loves_ better than anyone, and this doesn't change that.) "I mean--it's not a big deal, is it? All lads get... curious. I imagine." Louis isn't curious about what it's like to be a girl all that often but that doesn't make it _weird_.

 

"Yeah," Harry says, laughing a little, still avoiding Louis' face.

 

"Yeah." Louis walks forward, reaches out to pat Harry's hand but Harry pulls away quickly.

 

"Just--" Harry says, looking back down at the counter, "it's not, like, curiosity, really. Anymore. It's just something I do. Or--am? I guess. Something I am." Harry's voice has taken on a far-off, breathless quality that Louis hasn't heard since the time Harry had whispered _I think about kissing you sort of a lot, like all the time actually?_ in a room full of sleeping boys.

 

"Harry," Louis says, putting his hands down on the counter slowly. "I feel like we're talking circles around something and it's scaring me." Louis grips the edge of the counter with both hands. "That's not--that's not what we do. Is it?"

 

Harry exhales and looks Louis in the eye. "I feel like a girl sometimes."

 

So there that is.

 

Louis's first instinct is to laugh but Harry isn't joking and they both know it. He thumbs the counter edge nervously and bites his lip.

 

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" Harry asks in just above a whisper. Louis is the one avoiding Harry's eyes this time. He wants to punch himself in the face.

 

"No, sweetheart," Louis says. His throat suddenly feels like sandpaper because Louis has never called Harry sweetheart before, not when Harry was all boy in his head, and he doesn't know what it _means_. "No," he says again. He looks at Harry again and wonders if Harry can tell that he's chanting _she she she_ in his mind, trying to make it make sense.

 

"Lou," Harry says. She flexes out her fingers; the nail polish shines and Louis can't help but think it's very pretty. Harry's hand covers Louis's gently, barely touching him. "It's okay. To feel... however."

 

"No," Louis says, feeling a little lurch in his stomach when he looks down and sees that Harry's hand over his looks different, with the nail polish on. "No, Harry, I'm kind of freaking out right now and it's actually not okay, it's not fair to you _at all_."

 

"You don't--" Harry breaks off and inhales heavily. "I don't need you to be fair," she says. "I just need you to be Louis. Please." Harry pauses again. "Just, can you look at me? Louis."

 

Louis meant what he said, he _knows_ that it's not really okay for him to be freaking out but. He does. He is.  _Fuck_. "I love you so fucking much," Louis says, holding Harry's gaze steadily for a long moment. Harry keeps blowing on her nails anxiously. "Is that--Jesus, Harry, I only just started to be able to call you my _boyfriend_ and I don't even know if you're my boyfriend right now, and that's just. I don't know if I can call you that. Can I?"

 

Harry swallows so hard her whole body moves. "I--I dunno, Louis," she says. "Just--fuck. I'm yours." Her voice cracks. "'m always--please, fuck, I always want to be yours."

 

Harry's eyes are wet and fucking _hell_ , Louis's done it, hasn't he. "Shit," he says, moving to the other side of the counter quickly, "shit, I _know_ , and I'm yours, okay?" Louis takes Harry's face in his hands and kisses her forehead. " _Sorry_ , I'm just a little--you just caught me off guard with this, not that it's your fault, but just. _Harry_."

 

Harry pulls her face out of Louis's grasp and hides in Louis' neck as she wraps her arms around him tightly, balling her fists in his shirt and definitely ruining both her nails and his shirt in the process. "I've never," Harry says, "Louis, no one knows, I've never-- _anyone_ \--"

 

"Harry," Louis says again, "Harry," he pulls tries to pull Harry's body closer to him but there's no space left between them to close so he just tugs on Harry's curls and inhales as deeply as he can, "I love you, you're so--shit. _Harry_."

 

They stand clinging to each other in the middle of their kitchen for what feels like an hour. Harry is shaking and solid at the same time and it feels no more or less  desperate than any other time they've held each other, which is how Louis knows they're going to be okay.

 

"Thank you," Louis whispers in Harry's ear eventually. "Thank you for telling me, Harry, it means so much to me that you told me. I love you. Just--that doesn't change, _ever_ , understand? I love you."

 

"I'm sorry," Harry whispers back, and Louis can't see Harry's face but he _knows_ Harry, knows how her forehead must be scrunched up in frustration, "I'm sorry I lied, I didn't tell you, I didn't know how to explain--"

 

"Don't be a goof," Louis says, his voice a little louder, and that's what pulls them back to reality, where they are two separate people with bodies that cannot logistically feasibly be glued together all of the time. They separate a little, enough that Louis can bump his forehead against Harry's.

 

"I'm sorry," Harry says again.

 

"Well, don't be," Louis says, and flicks Harry's nose. She laughs and her voice cracks because she's been crying and Louis can't stop himself from kissing her. "We'll talk about this," Louis says into Harry's lips. "But right now I just wanna kiss you for a while, all right?"

 

Harry chews on the inside of her cheek for a minute. "I don't know," she drawls, "I might need to think about that." Louis snorts and Harry grins, bumping her forehead hard against Louis's and--boyfriend, girlfriend, whatever, when their lips meet again Louis feels with unsettling certainty, not for the first time, that he will never want anything but Harry.

 

###

 

Louis doesn't talk about his sexuality much. He isn't ashamed, it's just that the words don't come to him very easily. So he remembers very clearly the night in the X Factor bunks when Harry was curled into his side, nudging against his chest (it felt like he was on _fire_ ) and Niall had asked them, "so, not to be weird, but like, which one of you is the girl?"

 

Zayn had burst out laughing. Liam had said "Niall!" in a scandalized tone. Harry had turned his face into the crook of Louis' arm.

 

"Neither of us is the girl, Niall," Louis had said, trying to keep his tone light. "That's sort of the idea."

 

It was only a few months ago. They'd barely had time to do anything other than cuddle and make out but Louis already felt like he had known Harry his whole life, like he had only become the person he was supposed to be when he kissed Harry for the first time. But he didn't notice anything off about the way Harry had gone a bit quiet after that, and he stays awake for two whole nights hating himself for it.

 

###

 

Louis spends a lot of time on the internet the rest of the time they're in London. Harry explains over tea and cheese on toast later that first night that sometimes he feels like a boy and sometimes like a girl and sometimes like both or neither. Louis learns from the internet that this is called genderfluidity.

 

"Do you have, like, a name other than Harry you'd prefer I use for you?" Louis asks one morning while he's sitting on their bed hunched over his laptop. Harry is picking polish off his nails.

 

"Um. Not really?" Harry shrugs. "I dunno, other stuff changes a lot, but I'm always. Just. Harry. I like Harry." He gathers some flecks of dried nail polish that have fallen onto the bed and puts them in an empty tea mug.

 

"D'you not like the polish when you're boyish?" Louis asks after observing him for a minute. Harry shrugs.

 

"I don't mind it," he says. "It's just. When I'm... a girl, when I'm girl-ish, I really like it. Other times it just feels kind of superfluous." He chips another bit off into the tea mug. "I like picking it off as well," he adds. "Weirdly satisfying."

 

"Look at you, all quirky." Louis snorts. He pulls up another webpage and reads quietly for a few minutes, nudging his foot against Harry's. "What about pronouns?" he says eventually. "Like. He or she, depending? Or d'you like something else?"

 

"Dunno," Harry says, putting the tea mug with nail polish chips on the side table and scooting closer to Louis, who leans onto his shoulder. "I'm pretty fond of you speaking to me in the second person, thus far."

 

Louis blinks a few times before rolling his eyes and knocking his head against Harry's jaw. "Leave the jokes to me, love, you'll strain something."

 

"Hmmph," Harry says. He wraps an arm around Louis' shoulder and Louis closes the laptop, pushing it away so he can move closer to Harry.

 

"Seriously," Louis says. "I don't wanna make assumptions, right? If they could hurt you."

 

Harry kisses the top of Louis's head. "'He' is alright most of the time," he says quietly.

 

"Like now?" Louis asks. Harry nods. "But not when you're girlish." Louis laces his fingers through Harry's. Two of his nails are still mostly red. Louis kisses them.

 

"Well, right," Harry says. "Like. Obviously?" He pauses. "I'm not. I don't really want you talking to other people about how I'm a she, Louis. At least, not yet."

 

Louis doesn't say anything just nods against Harry's shoulder. "I just wanna know," he says. "For, like. For me. For you."

 

Harry hums and tugs Louis downwards into spooning position. It's probably objectively not fair to the universe that Louis monopolizes so much of Harry's cuddles, but Louis doesn't give a shit about fair. "He or she," he says after a while. "You know, depending."

 

Louis kisses Harry's hands again and resists the urge to kick the laptop out from underneath his legs so they can fall asleep like this.

 

###

 

Tour is hard. It's hard the first time around, when between traveling and performing and shagging Harry Louis barely gets any sleep, and it's even harder the second time around, with writing and recording and promo and bloody cameras following them everywhere they go.

 

When they're at home, Harry and Louis lie in bed naked for hours and have long conversations between blowjobs about Harry's gender at the moment, how Louis feels about being with a girl, how Harry's body sometimes feels like a thing she can't control. Louis tells Harry about being called a fairy when he was younger and Harry talks about stealing Gemma's bras and wanking to gay porn in the middle of the night and it's not at all the same but Louis understands, he thinks. Well, he'll never _really_ understand why some days Harry wears tight pants and tucks her dick between her legs because she doesn't want people to see it, because that's not a thing he feels, but he understands that that's Harry and that he loves Harry more than he loves breathing, and it's enough.

 

On tour, there's not a lot of time for meandering conversations about whether Harry feels like a boy or a girl on any given day, so they work out a system. If Harry's feeling boyish, he'll just put on boxer briefs in the morning, and if it's a girl day she'll tuck. It's not a foolproof system, because sometimes it's like a switch is flipped in the middle of the day and Harry feels totally like a girl, and sometimes Harry wakes up and doesn't feel particularly much like a boy or girl at all, but Louis has enough experience reading Harry that he can usually tell when he should ask how he's feeling. It works.

 

Harry isn't feeling particularly boyish or girlish on the day they get interviewed for some internet radio thing at arse o'clock in the morning, but he tucks because it makes him feel less self-conscious in his skinny jeans. Louis and Harry are told to sit on opposite ends of the couch, like they always are these days. The interviewer asks how they picked who would be the one to crossdress in the Best Song Ever video.

 

"I think Zayn just felt called to it," Liam says, looking unnecessarily philosophical. Zayn shrugs.

 

"Nah, Harry's the one obsessed with his own boobs," Niall says, patting Harry's thigh with a smile. "'s why he never buttons his shirts."

 

"Heeeey," Harry says. The other boys all laugh a little. Louis doesn't. He fidgets.

 

"I just didn't care, like." Zayn shrugs. "None of us are really insecure in our masculinity, you know."

 

"Reckon we couldn't be in a boy band if we weren't," Liam says. He drapes an arm around Zayn's back.

 

It's just. It's words. Harry doesn't look upset, just sort of rolls his shoulders while the other titter with light laughter. Louis forces himself to smile along with the others and thinks about putting his fist through something.

 

"You all right mate?" Niall asks Louis as they're leaving the interview room. "You look a little..." He waves his hand around in front of his face. Louis knows what he means.

 

"Fine, Nialler." Louis pauses in the doorway and waits for Harry to catch up with the rest of them. "Just fine."

 

###

 

Harry tells the band on a Thursday.

 

They're not the first people since Louis that Harry has come out to--she's told her mum and Gemma, and even Lou and Nick, when it came up in conversation, and they've been supportive (even if Louis has a feeling that Nick doesn't really _get_ it)--but it feels big. Harry is so nervous beforehand that she throws up, and Louis whispers in her ear that she doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to do, but she insists that it's time.

 

"So yeah," Harry says, picking at some dirt underneath her fingernails as Liam, Niall, and Zayn stare at her. Louis squeezes her shoulder. "I prefer feminine pronouns sometimes? Not always, and if you call me he it's like. It's usually fine. It changes a lot, and I expect you'll be able to tell for the most part once you start paying attention, but I don't..." Harry breaks off and looks at Louis, who just nods.

 

"I don't mind so much," Harry continues (Louis squeezes her shoulder again and is angry at everything that makes Harry feel like being recognized as herself is an undue burden on people), "if you mix up the pronouns, but I'd really appreciate it if you guys, you know, supported me." Harry leans into Louis's touch and Louis surveys the faces of his bandmates for any sign that he might have to rip off their extremities.

 

There's a long pause. Niall and Zayn watch Harry look at her hands. Liam makes eye contact with Louis, who can't quite read his expression.

 

"Well of _course_ we bloody support you, Harry, Jesus," Zayn says. He fingers twitch like he wants a cigarette.

 

"You're family," Niall says, a bit more softly than his usual tone.

 

Liam doesn't say anything, just reaches across the distance between them and gives Harry a long hug. Louis lets go of Harry's shoulder to let him. After a moment Niall and Zayn crowd around Harry and envelop her in their arms as well.

 

It's all very cute. For about a minute. "Feeling a bit left out here," Louis says as the silence grows more profound. Zayn flips him off.

 

"Get 'ere, then," Niall says, tugging Louis into the hug. He lets out an audible _oof_ as his skull collides with Liam's, and they all giggle for a minute before resting their heads together in silence, shifting enough that Louis can't tell whose hair is tickling his forehead or whose hand is rubbing at his back soothingly, but even with his eyes closed he can feel Harry's elbow nudging at his chest. Louis would know Harry anywhere.

 

"You're really great," Louis whispers in Harry's ear later, after a long workout at the gym that he comes back from feeling like a boy. Louis sucks him off well enough that Harry's moans must filter through to the next room because Louis gets a text from Niall that says _i don't know if you've got your boyfriend or your girlfriend over there but either way tell em to KEEP IT THE FUCK DOWN_. They read it after Harry comes and fall asleep smiling.

 

###

 

The next day, Harry is supposed to go out for dinner with some American reality show darling whose name Louis refuses to remember. As Louis looks into the mirror and smooths over the facial hair he's been growing out, he feels like he doesn't recognize himself and it makes him a little sick.

 

"Do you ever think about transitioning?" Louis asks as he watches Harry adjust herself while pulling on a second pair of tight panties to keep her dick in place. "More--like, permanently, I mean."

 

Harry doesn't respond until she's pulling up her skinny jeans. "'s not really an option, is it?" She looks into the mirror. "How much do you think Lou will hate it if I decide to put on a bandana?"

 

"Don't think she'll care much either way," Louis says (which might be a lie, because Lou _did_ spend half an hour on Harry's hair either, but), "I like your hair with the bandana, 's all--curly." Harry hums her agreement and goes digging through her suitcase.

 

"I wish you wouldn't think about it in terms of things you can and can't do," Louis says carefully as Harry wraps the scarf around her head. "I wish you'd think about what makes you happy."

 

Harry frowns at her reflection as she moves the scarf around and starts to tie it. "I am happy, though," she says.

 

Beat. "Good," Louis says, "that's--I mean, that's great, Haz, it's just. Down the road. When things are a little less..." Louis shrugs. "When we're not hiding as much. I want you to feel like you can do whatever you want."

 

"I'm doing what I want now." Harry doesn't take her eyes off her reflection, and the silence that follows for a moment isn't quite as easy as it usually is, with them. "You know me, I'm all. Fluid. I don't want, like, surgery or anything. I like my dick just fine, most of the time."

 

Louis stares between Harry's legs and doesn't ask _really?_ because they talk about just about everything but some things are _not_ Louis's place and he gets that, he does. But. "Sure, I know," he says. "I just don't want you to feel like..." He shrugs. "I don't know. We sold out MSG in record time. I don't want you to think you can't, like, wear a skirt if you want."

 

Harry finishes tying off the bandana but doesn't look away from her reflection. "I don't really like skirts," she says slowly.

 

"Or... hormones," Louis says, gesturing aimlessly with his hands and pretending to look at the TV so he doesn't catch Harry's eye in the mirror. "You know."

 

"I don't want hormones." Harry pauses. Louis flicks through the TV channels without turning on the volume. "Do _you_ want me to take hormones?"

 

"Harry, I want you to be _happy_." Louis drops the remote and twists his fingers and tugs on his hair a little ( _he's_ not going anywhere tonight). "It's just--you're a girl a lot lately, and if you wanted to--like, make some changes--I just want you to feel like you can do what it takes to make yourself happy."

 

"I thought we established I _am_ happy." There's a sharpness in Harry's voice that Louis hasn't heard much lately, not since the last time Eleanor had come out to join them for a few days. Louis doesn't like how this conversation is going at all.

 

"I want you to be _open_ ," Louis says. Apparently, that is the wrong thing to say.

 

Harry turns away from the mirror to look at Louis. "Is this about tonight?" she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "What, have I not made it clear enough lately how much I hate being paraded around like some macho straight dude for press?"

 

" _No_ , Haz," Louis says, blinking hard. "Jeez, no, I know you hate it as much as I do--"

 

"It's worth it," Harry says firmly. "It's not forever and it's worth it and I'm not going to apologize for it anymore because it'll drive us both mad again."

 

Something in Louis' chest tightens as he remembers shouting at Harry on his phone in a club bathroom last December while Harry was out with Taylor Swift. "Why are you bringing this up?" Louis says, shaking his head. "This--I just asked you a _question_."

 

"I don't like lying," Harry says. "But I don't need the whole world to know every detail about who I am in order to be okay with myself."

 

Louis takes a step back from Harry towards the door, almost running into the wall. "What are you trying to say?"

 

"We've talked about this." Harry shakes her head and turns back into the mirror, where she watches Louis's reflection.

 

"What, when you called me a _self-loathing gay_?" Louis isn't sure how words are even coming out of his mouth right now because it feels like his throat is made of steel. "Is that what you're saying now, Harry?"

 

"I'm saying I'd appreciate it if you'd stop projecting your insecurities onto me," Harry snaps. "I am _happy_ with who I am, believe it or not, Louis."

 

Being angry at Harry feels like being beaten with his own chopped-off limbs.

 

"Fuck you," Louis says through gritted teeth. "Jesus, Harry, just-- _fuck_ you."

 

Louis leaves. Harry doesn't follow him.

 

Two hours and a joint later, Louis feels like he's cried his eyes out even though he hasn't shed a tear. _sry love u ill wait up x_ he texts Harry before Niall takes his phone out of his hands, saying, "don't you fucking dare go on Twitter right now."

 

###

 

Louis is more than half asleep when Harry comes back late that night. Louis stirs but Harry doesn't say anything, just goes straight into the bathroom. When the shower comes on, Louis _hmmph_ s into his pillow and tries to blink himself awake enough for a conversation he doesn't want to have and is terrified of not having.

 

The shower doesn't turn off for a long time. Louis wonders if Harry is getting off without him, and that's what finally motivates him to heave himself off the bed and wander into the bathroom.

 

Harry's not jerking off.

 

"Hi," Louis says, leaning back against the doorframe and pulling the sleeves of his hoody over his hands. Harry doesn't look up until she's finished two long drags of Louis' razor against her leg.

 

"Hi," she says hesitantly as she rinses off the razor. "Thought you were sleeping." She puts her foot back on the ledge of the tub and continues shaving her legs.

 

"I told you I'd wait up for you," Louis says.

 

"Sorry," Harry mutters.

 

Louis moves further into the bathroom and sits on the toilet seat. "Don't avoid me," he says, barely loud enough to hear over the sound of the shower.

 

"I'm not." Harry smooths her hands up and down her clean-shaven leg. Louis clears his throat.

 

"Harry."

 

"What do you want me to say, Louis?" Harry shakes the razor in her hand and shaving cream splatters on the ground. "That I'm sorry?"

 

Louis doesn't say anything, just keeping watching as Harry shaves.

 

"I'm sorry for bringing up--you know," Harry says, keeping her gaze on her legs. "I don't think you're self-hating, and I didn't mean to--I know you're insecure about things, all right, but it's not really fair of me to hold that against you. It's okay to feel that way about things and that wasn't fair of me. I'm sorry."

 

"Thank you," Louis says. Harry continues like he didn't say anything but her eyes flicker up to him.

 

"But I'm not sorry for telling you to back off talking about transitioning." Harry sighs and stares down at her legs without doing anything. "This is _my_ life, Louis. My _life_. I know you're just trying to help, but this is _my_ thing. My _self_. I'm dealing with it the best way I know how and you're helping, honest, but I need you to stop acting like there's some _right_ way for me to handle my gender stuff because it just makes me feel like shit, honestly."

 

Louis doesn't say anything for a minute. Harry starts dragging the razor over her skin more forcefully. "You're gonna nick yourself," Louis says. Harry pauses, shakes her head without looking up, and continues shaving more slowly. Louis crosses his arms and leans back against the toilet, watching while Harry continues not to look at him. "And I didn't realize I did that."

 

Finishing off the last spot on her legs, Harry puts the razor down. "Well," she says, "you do. And it's bloody irritating sometimes." She turns her face into the shower. Louis aches to put his hands on her hips and trail kisses across her shoulder blades. He hunches further into himself.

 

"I just want to protect you," Louis says. No matter how open he is with Harry, some things are just easier to say this with Harry's back to him. He's not entirely sure she can even hear him. "I just want to be one person you can be anyone you want with."

 

Harry turns off the shower. Louis picks up a towel and holds it out to her tentatively. Harry covers her face with it and shakes her head for a minute before she turns to Louis as she dries her hair. "I am who I am," she says. "'Want' doesn't have much to do with it."

 

Louis doesn't say anything. Sometimes Harry makes him feel impossibly young and naive, like if he didn't have her he'd be blustering through life with no purpose or direction at all.

 

"I _am_ who I want to be with you," Harry says, "you know? _Because_ I'm with you. Even when I'm..." Harry glances at the pile of clothes from her 'date' lying on the floor as she finishes drying off and pulls the towel to her chest. "I couldn't do any of it if I didn't know you were with me."

 

"I'm with you," Louis says. He tries to think of something else to say. "I'm with you," he says again, a little quieter.

 

Harry shrugs the towel aside and wraps her arms around him. "I know," she says after a minute. Water drips from Harry's hair down Louis' back and that ends up being the thing that lets him feel like he can breathe again.

 

###

 

As far as Louis is concerned, there is nothing worse than not talking to Harry. That doesn't mean he doesn't wish she'd shut up sometimes, though.

 

"Can't wait to ride you," Harry whispers in Louis' ear, touching his hip gently as she crowds behind him. "Feel you so deep in me I forget my own name. God, you have no idea how much I want it right now."

 

They're at a _photo shoot_ , for god's sake. Ever since their argument two weeks ago Harry's been more affectionate than usual. Louis usually loves it, even if he scoffs and calls Harry a clingy monkey in front of the other boys, but they are in _public_ , Louis is wearing _very tight trousers_ and unlike Harry, who's tucked today, if he gets an erection it will be _all_ too visible to the readers of Seventeen magazine (most of whom, if he understands correctly, are well below the age of seventeen).

 

" _Fuck_ ," Louis says. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and elbows Harry sharply in the stomach while someone on their team is arguing with the photographer about how the lighting is affecting their skin tone. He tries to think about _anything_ but what Harry just said, about how long it's been since he was inside her (less than a day but their days feel like weeks sometimes), about how fucking hot Harry would look if he turned to face her now, with her pupils blown because she wants Louis so bad. He settles his eyes on Niall, who is talking to Liam about lunch. It's the safest boner-killer in the room. "I hate you," Louis says, not taking his eyes off Niall.

 

Harry laughs and squeezes Louis' hip before leaning away. "You can show me how much later," she says. "C'mon, love, time to look pretty."

 

For once, it's a good thing that they're forced to stand on opposite sides of the shot because Louis can't look at Harry without forgetting where they are.

 

###

 

As soon as they get back to their hotel room, Louis crowds Harry back against the door and she smirks because that's exactly what she wanted the whole time. _Fuck_ Harry, honestly. (Louis intends to.)

 

"You're a tease and I hate you," Louis says, slipping his knee between Harry's thighs. Harry pushes her hips into his and chuckles.

 

"Funny way of showing it," she says, quirking her eyebrows. Harry is a sarcastic little shit and it totally doesn't make Louis' dick twitch.

 

Louis has kissed Harry so many times it should feel mechanical, but it doesn't. She parts her lips just a little and Louis's head gets a little fuzzy as she licks into his mouth. He might consider the pros and cons of having his tongue in Harry's mouth forever before she pushes her hips against his boner again and Louis is reminded of all the other things he could be doing with Harry right now. "Naked," he says, licking his lips as he pulls away. "Before I kiss your face off just to make you shut up."

 

Harry hums agreement and the smirk fades from her face as she pulls her shirt over her head and stumbles over herself getting out of her skinny jeans. Louis laughs a little as he steps out of his own trousers while Harry struggles with the two layers of tight pants that have been keeping her dick between her legs. It's almost unreal, though, how quickly her cock starts to fill as Louis pushes her back onto the bed and kneels beside her. She lets out a half-laugh as Louis's eyes takes in her naked body ("they call _me_ a creepy stalker, but you look like you're going to _eat_ me sometimes," Harry had said once, "I love it"), but it seems to get caught in her throat as Louis thumbs over one of her nipples. She already looks halfway wrecked, delicate and fuckable and Louis would totally eat her, if that was a thing, he's not ashamed to say it.

 

"What do you want me to do to you?" he says quietly, pinching her nipple lightly. Harry inhales sharply and spreads her legs a bit, her cock lying pink and already mostly full against her belly.

 

"You... just _want_ you," Harry says breathlessly, balling her hands into fists as Louis leans down to suck her nipple into his mouth, pinching the other with one hand and dragging the other across the plane of Harry's stomach. "Lou, please."

 

Louis pulls off Harry's nipple and hums with satisfaction at how hard and dark it's gotten already. "I'm here, love," he mutters as he trails kisses up to Harry's neck. "Gonna give you everything you want," he says into her ear, "just have to tell me."

 

Harry inhales shakily as Louis kisses her jawline and keeps tugging at her nipple. "Want you to eat me out." She sounds like she's in a daze almost. "'n then open--open me up so I can--" Harry breaks off with a gasp as Louis twists her nipple between his thumb and forefinger hard.

 

"So you can fuck yourself on my cock, hmm?" Louis nips at the sweet spot behind Harry's ear and her whole body jerks.

 

" _Louis_." Harry lets out a sound that might be a scream if she weren't halfway breathless. Louis's mouth moves down Harry's body to between her legs. Harry's so hard now, Louis really wants to take her cock into his mouth, but that's not what they're doing right now, he reminds himself.

 

"Shhh," Louis says, half-heartedly, into the smooth white of Harry's thigh. "I've got you. I've got you." He taps on Harry's hip and she rolls over, pushing her arse up  enough for Louis to comfortably get between her cheeks.

 

Louis takes his time eating Harry out. He starts slowly, with sloppy kisses and light breaths and one gentle nip at Harry's rim before she keens loudly, pushing back onto Louis' face and he starts to tongue into her in earnest, thrusting into her as much as he can while Harry moans and rests her head on her forearms. The taste is musk and sweat and it really, objectively, should not be as hot as it is but it's _Harry_ and in the end that's what does it for Louis, always.

 

Harry doesn't stop letting out beautiful, high-pitched hums as Louis slips one, then two fingers inside her, scissoring her open, but some of her focus seems to come back to her and fuck if that isn't as hot as when she's wordless. "Oh _god_ ," she moans as Louis twists a third finger inside her. "Lou," she chants, "Lou Lou Lou," canting her hips, "ready, 'm ready-- _hah_ ," Harry whines as Louis strokes her prostate, kissing her rim where his fingers are stretching her open, "please, don't wanna come like this, want you in me."

 

Two weeks ago Harry had handcuffed Louis to their hotel bed and made him come until he couldn't anymore. Louis' going to return the favor one day, he swears, but he can't right now, not when his head is buzzing from the taste of Harry and her sounds and if he doesn't _do_ something about it he might actually die.

 

"If you insist," Louis says, his voice far too shaky to pull off the level of snark he intends. He's so hard he can barely think straight. Harry seems to sense that and rolls over to get a condom and lube from the bedside table.

 

"Been thinking about you all day," Harry says, breathing roughly as she rolls the condom onto Louis' dick. "About how hard you'd get for me. How much you'd want me."

 

" _God_ ," Louis says as Harry strokes him, rubbing her thumb along his slit just because she loves to drive him fucking _mad_. "So much," Harry presses a quick kiss to his mouth, "always want you so much," he says into her lips.

 

Harry pushes Louis back onto the bed and straddles his thighs. Louis hisses as she slicks up his cock and then tosses the bottle to the side, a haunting concentration in how dark her eyes are. She trails her less-sticky hand down Louis' side as she moves up and positions herself to take his cock.

 

"Can't believe how fucking beautiful you are," she whispers, and wasn't Louis in charge of this at one point? He's definitely not anymore and he definitely doesn't care. He has to close his eyes as Harry starts to sink down onto him because it's too _much_ , how tight and wet it is around his cock, how Harry's eyelids flutter as she lowers herself onto him, how _earnest_ Harry is about it even after all this time.

 

Harry rocks her hips a little as she pushes down to take the last inch of Louis' cock, letting out the most amazing little _ah ah_ noises that only come out on her girl days, and Louis grits his teeth and sinks his fingers into her hips hard enough to bruise because they are so, so _close_ right now, he doesn't know what else to do with himself.

 

Harry doesn't usually like her cock touched much while she's a girl ("it's not _bad_ , like, just sort of weird?" she'd explained once in a post-coital cuddle), so Louis just watches it bob up and down as Harry finds her rhythm on top of Louis, her hands grappling on his chest as her breathing becomes more belabored. She works herself on and off slowly at first, and Louis has to bite his lip to keep from shouting as she clenches, looking down at him with hooded eyes as she starts to move faster, and even with the condom the drag is so incredible Louis might pass out, that's just what Harry _does_ to him.

 

"Don't," Harry gasps as Louis turns his head to the side, biting his lip and groping at her arse cheeks like they're the only thing grounding him. "Wanna hear, please, stay with me."

 

 _Stay with me_. Louis moans and his hips snap up to meet Harry's thrusts and the angle must be right because Harry damn near _cries_ , collapsing forward a little and Louis shifts beneath her to keep that angle, hitting it again and again. Harry is babbling now ( _yes yes fuck so good yes there there please fuck yes_ ) and as she clenches around him again, hard, Louis groans so deeply that he doesn't even realize that sound is coming from his own throat. His orgasm is so close it hurts to even think about holding off.

 

"Harry--" he says in a warning tone.

 

"Me too," Harry says. She nods wildly for a minute, gripping Louis' sides, "me too, gonna--"

 

Two more quick thrusts against her prostate and Harry is coming all over Louis' stomach, slack-jawed and moaning with her eyes squeezed shut. Something inside Louis snaps and his hips cant forward relentlessly as Harry clenches around him and then he's gone too, spilling into the condom as Harry basically collapses on top of him.

 

###

 

It feels like no time at all before the alarm wakes them up. Louis kicks awake like water's been dumped on him. Harry moans and rolls a little away from him, head stuffed into the pillow.

 

"Morning, love," Louis says, patting Harry on the back after he's had a minute to blink himself awake. Harry makes an incoherent noise into the pillow. Louis laughs. "I know," he says. His own wakefulness is annoying him, he gets it. He kisses the back of Harry's head and heads to the bathroom for a wee. When he comes back, Harry shifts just enough to smile at him blearily.

 

"Grab some briefs for me?" Harry mutters, voice still thick with sleep.

 

"Mmmmm." Louis picks a pair of Harry's black pants out of his suitcase and tosses them at him as he crawls back into bed. Harry yawns while he stretches himself out enough to pull the briefs up over his naked arse.

 

Louis puts his hand on the dip of Harry's lower back and the grunt Harry lets out is significantly less sleepy, which Louis will consider a victory even though they haven't really got time for that. "How's my boy this morning?" Louis says.

 

Harry rolls over onto his back--or he tries, but he collides with Louis' chest instead. Neither of them complain. "Peachy," he says. "'s long as you're here."

 

Louis rolls his eyes. "'s convenient," he says, "since I don't plan on letting you get away from me anytime soon."

 

It's sappy, but neither of them feel like making fun of that today. It's how they work, and Louis wouldn't have it any other way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> given the dearth of representation of genderqueerness in fic/media/life, it's probably worth pointing out: that people experience genderqueerness in a lot of different ways, that this is one way that people who may or may not be harry styles may or may not experience it, that nobody actually 100% for sure knows harry styles' gender identity except harry styles and people who have been informed of harry styles' gender by harry styles, but there's nothing wrong with having queer headcanons!
> 
> tumblr: thepreviousquestion. come, follow me, and i will give you rest.


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